


how well do you know yourself?

by QuietLittleVoices



Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, Lily Wright - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 17:23:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17605652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietLittleVoices/pseuds/QuietLittleVoices
Summary: “You’re like… in love with him,” Marcus says. “And he pretty clearly feels the same way about you? And - yeah, I like you, but you two are next level for each other and I don’t really want to get between that. I kinda want to date people who I have some sort of shot with.”Sammy doesn’t say anything right away. He isn’t sure that he’s even really processed any of it. Marcus just watches him, and Sammy - Sammy really doesn’t know what’s going on. “No,” he says finally. “No, you’re - wrong. That’s not - me and Jack - we aren’t. We aren’t,” he finishes lamely.





	how well do you know yourself?

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea and wrote it today which is wild for me? But also I should have been doing homework so.. RIP. Hope this is good enough to validate that, and I'm pretty proud of it so I think it is!

Sammy wishes he could say he was surprised when Marcus broke up with him. It’s not that he saw it coming, or anything - they got along really well, had enough overlapping interests, had compatible goals. He just isn’t surprised, because for the last few months they’d only gone on dates once a week and barely talked outside of that and were basically just acquaintances who had sex. Sammy’s not even sure he could call hem fuckbuddies, even though the term makes him balk a little.

“It’s not -”

“If you say ‘it’s not you, it’s me’, I’m gonna have to call bullshit,” Sammy interrupts. “At the very least it’s mutual.”

Marcus smiles and ducks his head, clearly embarrassed even though he doesn’t seem to get red with it. Sammy envies that a little, knows that he’s probably more flushed than the cold weather calls for. “I mean - can I be honest? It’s not like, I won’t be mean or anything, but do you actually wanna know why?”

Sammy shrugs, because there isn’t really anything he could say that won’t likely make Sammy feel like shit for at least a week, but he also is - curious, maybe. Marcus doesn’t say anything right away and Sammy realizes that shrug could have meant a lot so he shifts in his seat. “Yeah, go for it.”

“It’s because of Jack,” Marcus says bluntly, and Sammy feels himself - pull away a little, sit back in his chair, because he wasn’t sure what he was expecting but it wasn’t that.

“What?” he asks. “Was he - did he - what?”

“No, he was fine,” Marcus reassures him. “Super nice guy, never made me feel like I was intruding or anything. It’s more like - like, you and Jack.”

Sammy blinks once. Then again, slowly, still not sure exactly what Marcus is getting at. “You’re breaking up with me because I have a best friend?”

Marcus shakes his head. “Of course not, sorry, none of this is coming out right.” He sighs and takes a sip of his coffee. “Like, it would be fine if you guys were just super close? I’d understand that. But - Sammy. You really don’t know?”

Sammy just shakes his head, slowly, and it kinda feels like he’s miles away even though he still has no idea  _ what _ Marcus is getting at. 

“You’re like… in love with him,” Marcus says. “And he pretty clearly feels the same way about you? And - yeah, I like you, but you two are  _ next level _ for each other and I don’t really want to get between that. I kinda want to date people who I have some sort of shot with.”

Sammy doesn’t say anything right away. He isn’t sure that he’s even really processed any of it. Marcus just watches him, and Sammy - Sammy really doesn’t know what’s going on. “No,” he says finally. “No, you’re - wrong. That’s not - me and Jack - we aren’t. We aren’t,” he finishes lamely. 

Marcus just raises an eyebrow and takes another sip of his coffee. “Wanna try telling him that?”

“We aren’t,” Sammy says again, but it sounds weak even to his own ears. He isn’t even sure  _ why _ it sounds so fake, like he’s lying, because he  _ isn’t _ . He and Jack weren’t - like that. They weren’t. Sammy didn’t - and Jack  _ definitely  _ didn’t - they just. Weren’t.

“I’m not like, mad about it or anything,” Marcus says. “It’s fine. I don’t feel like you strung me along or whatever, no hard feelings, but - you know. Just looking to have better odds.”

“Oh,” Sammy says finally, because he isn’t sure what else to say other than ‘ _ we aren’t _ ’, which isn’t the right thing to say. “I should probably get going.”

Marcus nods. “It was - nice. We had a good run.”

“Yeah,” Sammy agrees awkwardly, standing and grabbing his coat. “It - we did. I’ll… see you around?”

Marcus smiles up at him as Sammy winds his scarf around his neck, and there’s a note to his expression that Sammy can’t place - it isn’t sadness, because that could almost be explained, it’s something closer to  _ pity _ and Sammy has to look away before he can try and really place it. “See you around, Sammy.”

Sammy only realizes that the scarf he’s wearing is Jack’s when he’s pushing his way out of the coffee shop and onto the streets. 

 

Sammy doesn’t tell Jack. Well, he tells Jack that Marcus broke up with him, but he doesn’t tell him what Marcus said. Because it isn’t true, it doesn’t matter. It’s just irrelevant, Marcus trying to make a reason to make himself feel better, Sammy’s sure. 

He maybe plays up being sad, a little bit. He isn’t even sure why, because he - surprisingly isn’t, really. Sure, it sucks to be broken up with, but they hadn’t even been dating for a year. Sammy hadn’t been like, dead-set invested in the relationship or anything. 

He’s maybe a bit worried about how not-sad he is, but he gives Jack his best puppy-eyes from their couch and Jack brings him back a tub of Ben and Jerry’s with two spoons and puts on some show they’d both been watching recently. Jack sits close, their sides pressed together so they can both reach the ice cream that’s carefully balanced between their thighs, a harsh contrast to the warmth of Jack against him. 

“Wait,” Sammy says, when the ice cream is long gone and Jack has pulled a blanket over both of them, “didn’t you have that rugby thing tonight?”

Jack shrugs, shoulder brushing Sammy’s. “Some of the guys were gonna get drinks, I think, but I’d rather hang out with you. Especially since you seemed like you needed me more than they did.”

Sammy’s brain short circuits for a second, and then he feels it all come back online like a house after a power outage. Everything’s suddenly too loud, too bright. “Oh. Thanks. You -”

“If you’re gonna say that I didn’t have to do that, keep it to yourself,” Jack chides, knocking their shoulders together lightly and smiling over at Sammy. “You’re my best friend. Of course I did.”

Sammy smiles and ducks his head, and he knows that his face is bright red. “Well. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Jack says, and he’s looking at Sammy all soft and caring, like he gives a shit if Sammy’s even the slightest bit upset. 

Sammy feels like the floors been pulled out from under him, looking at Jack. Because Jack loves him - he’s always known that Jack loves him - but he’s in love with Jack.

He’s so fucked. 

 

It turns out that realizing you’ve been in love with your best friend for years doesn’t actually buck the status quo that much. Sammy’s pretty sure, now, that he’s been in love with Jack pretty much since day one.  _ You had me at hello _ and all that, as cliche as it is. In his mind’s eye he can still see Jack walking up to him in class and asking if the seat next to Sammy was taken, his blond hair and stupid lopsided smile, but now it’s - different. Jack grins and Sammy can retroactively feel his gut twist, takes the seat and they don’t talk that day and Sammy can feel his skin thrumming at how much he wants Jack to be closer - it’s stupid. Sammy didn’t want to jump Jack the day they met, except that maybe he kind of did?

He curses Marcus in his head for doing this to him. He could have lived the rest of his life in blissful ignorance of his own feelings. Maybe he never would have settled down, maybe all his relationships would have failed because they’d always realize he was going to choose Jack over them, but he could have made his peace with that if he didn’t know  _ why _ . He would have been fine watching Jack find a - wonderful, probably super hot - husband, settling down, having kids, having a family. He would have been  _ fine _ if he’d never known. 

Sammy kind of feels like throwing up half the time he looks at Jack now, from how violently the guilt and the want twist in his stomach. He wants to kiss Jack, more than that, and he hates that he wants it. He can’t bare to think about how Jack would look at him, maybe not disgusted but - upset, maybe. Angry, possibly. Betrayed? 

Sammy stands up and walks out of the living room and right into Lily. 

“Watch where you’re going, idiot,” she mutters, and then looks up and sees his face and groans. “You just realized, didn’t you?”

Sammy has no fucking idea how she knows anything. He’s pretty sure Lily’s telepathic some days.

“You’re just obvious,” she says, which doesn’t actually make the telepath angle any less likely, considering. “Just - I’m gonna leave, now. Go back in there and talk to him.” Then she blows by him like it’s nothing. 

Sammy doesn’t go back to the living room. Obviously. He also pretends not to see Jack’s disappointed face whenever he gets up and leaves the room but he just - he just can’t, right now. Maybe in a week, once he’s let it settle. 

It doesn’t settle in a week but they go to someone’s house party. It’s still cold out, so the house is packed with people unwilling to go out except to smoke and then immediately run back in. Sammy sticks to Jack’s side like he always does, because Jack’s a natural at these kinds of things and Sammy - isn’t. He can put on airs, charm people when he needs to, but it’s exhausting and he just. Doesn’t feel the need to impress a bunch of college kids, most of whom he’s never met and will never meet. He’s not even sure who’s throwing the party, thinks it’s one of Jack’s rugby friends, but then - Jack’s gone. Sammy isn’t sure how he lost track of him, since he was practically holding onto his arm, but he’s there one second and then gone the next. 

He looks around the living room but can’t catch sight of him anywhere, so he heads towards kitchen. Where he finds Jack, luckily, but also - 

“He didn’t tell you?” Marcus says, confused, just at the moment that Sammy walks in, and Jack whips his head around to look at Sammy and he looks like - Sammy doesn’t know what he looks like, scared, maybe. Trapped, which, if Marcus just told him - 

“What didn’t he tell me?” Jack asks, slowly turning back to face Marcus, so at least Sammy knows he, at most, implied it. Whatever he said was deniable. 

Marcus looks around Jack at Sammy, eyes wide. “I don’t think that’s my place. Sorry,” he says quickly, and then hastily makes his exit. He forgets his beer on the counter and Jack knocks it into the sink. 

“Someone else will clean it,” Jack mutters. 

Sammy doesn’t want to know. He really doesn’t want to know what was said before he walked in there, wants to forget this just happened, wants to go home and forget this  _ party _ happened, kind of wants to forget Marcus ever happened to him. Except - “What did he say?”

Jack licks his lips. He isn’t looking at Sammy, halfway across the kitchen. Sammy’s still standing in the doorway. 

Their standoff is interrupted by someone trying to get in. Sammy moves automatically and they go to grab a beer, and Jack moves past Sammy and back into the party. Sammy follows him, but Jack keeps walking until they’re out the front door and heading back towards the general direction of their apartment building. 

Sammy really wishes he’d gotten something to drink, but he kind of feels like he’s gonna throw up anyway, so maybe it’s good that he didn’t.

Jack doesn’t start talking until they turn a corner. “He asked me how  _ we _ were doing,” Jack says. “Like, dating. How us, me and you, dating, was going.”

Sammy shoves his hands in his pockets. “Huh.”

“What happened when you guys broke up?” Jack asks, voice too serious, like it  _ really _ matters what Sammy’s about to say. “What did you guys say?”

Sammy stuffs his hands farther into his pockets, looking determinedly at the ground. He kicks a rock and stares as it skitters off into the street. “He said I was in love with you,” Sammy admits. “That’s why he broke up with me.”

“Are you?” Jack asks, and his voice is too even. Like it’s easy for him to say, like whatever answer he expects Sammy to give won’t change everything.

Sammy could just lie. It would be easy, the _ no _ on the tip of his tongue, ready to roll off, but then - then he actually turns to look at Jack, and Jack doesn’t  _ look _ like what he just asked was easy. He looks fucking terrified. 

Sammy kisses him. 

He catches him on the side of the mouth, both of them grinding to a halt, unsure of what to do with their hands. Neither of them moves for a single, horrifying moment, but then Jack’s got his hands in Sammy’s scarf -  _ Jack’s scarf _ , he never returned it - and he’s pulling Sammy in as close as he can get. Sammy manages to get his hands on Jack’s face, still warm from his pockets and almost burning against Jack’s cold cheeks and neck. It’s still awkward, too much teeth, their noses smashed together, but then Sammy tilts his head and - Jack makes a sound like he can’t help it, a soft sigh, and Sammy loses all his breath. 

“Yes,” Sammy answers, giddy with it, and then he’s clutching at Jack and laughing into his shoulder. Jack holds him back and Sammy can feel his chest shake more than he can feel him join in with the nervous energy. “I’m in love with you.”

“Thank God,” Jack breathes, breath warm against Sammy’s ear. “I don’t know if you caught it, but I’m kinda in love with you, too.”

Eventually it gets too cold to stay standing out there in the dark, and they start to walk back to their apartment. They aren’t holding hands because neither of them has gloves, but they’re walking close enough that their shoulders keep brushing, and Sammy can’t help but stare at Jack as they do. 

He’ll have to send Marcus a card or something, later. But for now he just stops to kiss Jack at the red light. Just because he can.


End file.
